


Honestly

by ClothesBeam



Series: 100 Years Later [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, plus other strange things I can't think of appropriate tags for, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust was slow to build between them, but Blurr finally makes a move on Swindle after his first race since the war ended a century ago. All Swindle has to do is make sure he doesn't die from embarrassment first.</p><p>(This fic should be readable even if you haven't/don't want to read part 1 of this series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honestly

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here because of part 1 of this fic but Blurr/Swindle isn't really your thing, this isn't important to the overall story at all. It just wraps up some loose ends between these two and is basically porn.

Swindle sat behind the bar, more watching the vidscreen than trying to keep up with serving customers. They were mostly regulars tonight, and were more likely to pour their own drink and leave their money under the till than not, anyway.

Blurr had sent out an open challenge for someone to race him as part of his new charity event idea. It was, of course, being played live on Maccadam’s vidscreen, even if that meant the bartender himself couldn’t be in. Maybe it was time they hired a staff member…

Swindle began absently polishing another glass as the three leaders entered their final lap. This was Blurr’s first race since coming out of semi-retirement, and the odds against him were surprisingly high. Swindle smiled to himself, the old thrill of successfully scamming someone breaking the surface. No one had seemed to notice that Blurr had lost a lot of weight since the end of the war, but he was as well-balanced as ever with his unnaturally fast processor and powerful engine.

And Primus, just the sound of that engine was enough to get him running hot, not to mention the way Blurr’s frame vibrated when he was running anywhere above resting level. Swindle came back to reality just in time to watch Blurr speed over the finish line, winning by only a few car lengths. A cheer went up in the bar and someone whooped loudly.

A little text overlay showed the tally of the donation pool was high enough for a live interview with the placing winners to be broadcast live. The commentators showed the list of questions people had voted to ask via their donations, and pointed out which ones had made the cut. And of course, of all questions, the most voted on was “Is there someone special in your life?”

What weirdo would ask something so personal? A whole stadium-full of them, apparently. Once the racers had recovered, they sat in a row of chairs with an interviewer off to the side.

The guy who came in third place was the first to answer the absurd question. He was very young, probably forged post war. But his career seemed to be growing rapidly, even if he didn’t seem too comfortable being broadcasted just yet. He scratched the back of his head and shrugged sheepishly. “Hah, no, can’t say that I do.”

The one who came in second leaned back into his seat with a cocky expression. The caption said he was Knockout, from Velocitron. “Of course, but that’s not to say the rear end that was in front of me for the entire race doesn’t have potential.”

Swindle wasn’t exactly sure how the glass had broken around his hand, but the bar had gone oddly quiet after that. He tried to ignore them as he got to work on cleaning up, and mentally made a note to add the breakage to this month’s expenses.

Blurr smiled widely at the camera when it was his turn. “Well, my accountant is pretty special!”

This got a laugh out of the interviewer, who assumed he was dodging the question. However, it got entirely different reaction from those in Maccadam’s.

“Ooh~!” Windblade mocked, and Swindle decided he was going to cut her off the engex for tonight then and there. But when Tankor and Tankor shared a high-five, and even Chromia snorted into her drink, he knew he was outnumbered.

“So that’s a ‘yes’, then?” the interviewer joked back.

“He knows who he is!” Blurr blew an exaggerated kiss at the camera and Swindle sank behind the bar to avoid being stared at as his faceplate warmed. “So, what’s the next question?”

Blurr knew exactly what he was doing, but at least he seemed to know Swindle could only take so much embarrassment in one night.

“All right then, next question. Is red faster?”

“Umm, as far as I know the colour of your paintjob doesn’t make a difference?” the young mech replied with a serious frown.

“Well, it certainly _looks_ more impressive,” Knockout teased, shifting in the lighting.

Blurr laughed. “Of course it’s faster!” He gestured down at his own frame, inviting the camera to focus on him alone.

Blurr was so confident in front of the camera. Swindle knew he was pining, and wanted to smack himself for it. Not much had changed between them since Blurr had invited him to live at Maccadam’s with him. Perhaps it’d just been for his accounting skills after all?

“That’s why I’m not red,” he continued. “I have to give everyone else a fair chance!”

The red racer from Velocitron looked disgruntled when the shot changed to include all of the racers and the interviewer again. The patrons laughed, and their attention shifted from Swindle. He reminded himself the night was almost over as he eyed Tall Tankor to make sure he paid for the drink he was pouring.

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Swindle asked as Blurr crowded him against the back-of-house hallway wall. He'd been in the middle of carrying the till and donation tin out the back after cleaning up. With his hands full he couldn’t move very far. Not like he could run from Blurr anyway, but still.

He just grinned and leaned down so they were face-to-face. “I always get so horny after a race.”

Swindle spluttered, having to reassert his grip on the objects in his arms. “ _You_ want to frag _me_?”

Blurr looked confused for a moment. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be randomly kissing and touching you, otherwise. Or, you know, _living_ with you.”

“I thought you were just making fun of me. You never made a proper move before now,” he grumbled. “But let me put this stuff down, it’s heavy.”

Blurr moved to open the door to his room. “What, you going to make me wait until you’ve counted out all your pennies?”

Swindle didn’t miss the way the racer’s optics raked over his frame as he walked past. If he were being honest, he wasn’t used to being desired like this. Especially not by someone like Blurr.

Swindle sat on the floor and deposited the tin and till in front of him. “The longer you complain for, the more I’m going to make you wait.”

“That’s just cruel,” Blurr murmured by his audial, suddenly kneeling behind him. The door swung shut long after he’d moved.

Swindle shivered, in part at his abilities, and in part because of the heat emanating from the racer’s frame. He made a show of picking up the largest denomination of notes and counting them quickly and expertly. If he were to be honest, well, the amount of cash in front of him was getting him a bit hot as well.

“You’re seriously more interested in the shanix than me?” Blurr murmured. “Spark-breaker. I guess I’ll just have to work with what I can get.”

The racer shifted again, seeming to appear in front of him this time. The notes in his hand went flying, some of them landing on him, while others floated to the ground. When Blurr pushed him back, he felt some of the money had been spread out on the floor beneath him.

“I’m not just here because I’m heated up after a race,” Blurr murmured against his lips before kissing him properly. A needy whine left Swindle’s vocaliser, much to his mortification. “I love you, Swindle.”

He felt his optics widen as he gazed up at him. Blurr’s smile began to falter slightly when he didn’t answer.

“It’s mutual, believe me,” he murmured once he’d remembered how to speak.

Relief flashed across his face before he continued. “I only frag mechs I trust to not humiliate me by selling a story about our activities later down the track. So, I want to share this with you because I’ve come to trust you.”

“Blurr…” he mumbled, pulling the racer back down into a kiss. It warmed his spark something fierce to hear that. When they parted again, he tried to explain himself.

“The only time I didn’t live in poverty was during the war. It’s not really money itself I’m interested in, it’s the shelter, fuel and safety that comes with it. Though we might not be rich anymore, I’ve never felt safer than I have living here with you. I have no reason, or desire, to humiliate you like that.”

Blurr’s smile relaxed into something more sincere than his automated photogenic expression. “I am going to make you overload so many times,” he whispered heatedly, kissing him more aggressively this time. Swindle moaned as he moved down to his neck cables. Blurr’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, titillating and fleeting. In a way he was teasing him even still.

Swindle gripped Blurr’s upper arms for dear life, fingers flirting with the vents occasionally. When the racer shivered above him, he stroked them more purposefully.

Blurr’s hands slowed and he stroked his interfacing panel firmly. Swindle didn’t even try to hold back, opening up to him right away and letting his spike extend.

Blurr took a hold of his hips as he slid further down to stare at Swindle’s spike. His glossa moved across his lips and his mouth hung open slightly. “You’re perfect.”

Swindle felt the heat rise in his faceplate. If he were honest, really, this time, no one had ever looked at him or touched him like this before. Blurr licked his spike from base to tip, pausing to stare again between each stroke.

“Blurr,” he murmured again, the name more of a plea this time. Blurr looked up at him and licked away the fluid leaking from the tip of his hard spike before circling his glossa over it, using one of his hands to work the base. “Yes, yes,” Swindle gasped, reaching a hand in his direction.

Blurr swallowed his spike, shifting his hand to hold onto Swindle’s outstretched one. He gripped tightly as Blurr began sucking. “That feels amazing,” he encouraged, though the racer clearly didn’t need it. Blurr began bobbing his head up and down, sucking hard on every upstroke.

Swindle canted his hips upward, seeking more pleasure but not wanting to cause his partner any discomfort. But one final pull upward was enough to push him over the edge, and he gasped as Blurr swallowed his spurt of transfluid. Blurr squeezed his hand gently as he sat up and released his spike.

“Anyway, as I was saying, your spike is the perfect size for my valve. Want to see?”

Swindle nodded, knowing it would take some time for him to recover. But Blurr seemed to have a plan to make the time pass quickly.

He sat up and shuffled forward on his knees, revealing that his panel had opened sometime while he’d been sucking him off. He hovered his array over Swindle’s head, spike cover still in place, but his valve was slick. Swindle reached up with a wide, blunt finger and caressed his valve opening, dipping the tip of it inside briefly.

Blurr was small and tight, but that wasn’t surprising given that he was built for speed. Swindle briefly wondered if that was why his spike was still hidden away. He’d been forged to be lighter than most, and maybe skimping on the interfacing equipment was just another way to shave off more weight. But if he was self-conscious about this one thing, Swindle hoped that by the end of all this Blurr would realise he didn’t have to be, at least not around him.

Swindle swirled his fingers around the sensitive area between his valve opening and spike housing, watching Blurr shudder above him. His engine revved, its high performance specs made obvious by the amazing sound it made. Swindle lay a hand on Blurr’s upper thigh just to feel the delicious vibrations of his frame.

When he brushed his fingers over Blurr’s entrance again, he felt significantly more fluid this time. “That’s so good,” Blurr murmured.

Swindle became aware of the heat in his face again as he pressed a finger inside him. He bit his lip as Blurr vibrated around him. His spike began to stir again at the thought of what was to come next.

Blurr moaned softly and released a bodily vent, hot air rushing out his leg and arm vents, not just his mouth. “It’s going to feel so good with your spike inside me.”

“Y-yeah,” Swindle agreed, stroking the inside of his partner’s valve. “I’m getting hard again already.”

Blurr moved away, forcing his finger to withdraw before flashing a smile at him. “Why don’t you give that a taste while I take a look?”

Swindle absently sucked on his fluid covered finger at his suggestion.

“Good?”

Honestly, he hadn’t had much valve fluid in his mouth before. The taste would take some getting used to, but Swindle didn’t have to be honest all the time. “I get more later, right?”

Blurr laughed as he took hold of his spike again. “We’ll see.” He positioned himself and slowly slid down onto him.

Swindle whimpered as tight, wet heat enclosed him. Blurr moaned in response as his spike stretched him. Swindle wasn’t particularly large, but he realised his short length was probably what had interested Blurr in the first place, once he’d filled him completely. Another full body vent warmed his chassis and face, and some hit their interfacing arrays after being released from more well-hidden seams.

Blurr began moving up and down, his engine seeming to rev harder with every stroke. Swindle gripped his thighs as Blurr did indeed vibrate around his spike, his light frame doing nothing to contain the power of his engine. And the _sound_. He found himself thrusting up into Blurr’s downstrokes without much thought.

“Oh Swindle,” he gasped, moving faster still, lubricant gushing between his thighs now. The extra moisture stopped things from becoming uncomfortable with his increased speed. Swindle had never really appreciated how perfectly Blurr had been forged before now, but suddenly he understood why he had so many fanboys.

Swindle looked down at Blurr’s array, noticing his spike had finally come out. It was certainly small for a mech of his size, but Swindle could see the advantage in any situation. He wouldn’t have to try and get used to fitting spike in his mouth, after all. Since, honestly, he’d never really done that before either.

Swindle reached down and covered his hand in their mingling fluids as Blurr continued to thrust away. He glanced down at his touch and bit his lip when Swindle’s hand moved over his spike. He whimpered at the touch, but glanced up at Swindle with a slightly self-conscious look.

“I want to see you overload, Blurr,” Swindle murmured. “I don’t know what the papers wrote about you all those years ago, but you’re flawless to me.”

A scorching vent of air was expelled from the racer’s frame this time. “Swindle,” Blurr moaned one last time before reaching his overload.

Swindle followed suit a moment later when he felt Blurr’s valve squeeze around him, seemingly trying to milk him of another batch of transfluid. As they separated, Blurr leaned over him with a smile. He rested his hands either side of Swindle’s head, but his optics widened when his hands slipped on the notes still lying on the floor beneath them.

Blurr groaned for another reason entirely as he slammed into Swindle’s torso face-first. Swindle laughed as he wrapped his arms around the racer.

“Flawless, huh?” Blurr muttered.

“Yeah, honest,” Swindle replied, kissing the top of his helm.


End file.
